


he was but one hour mine

by JayofDiamonds



Series: sonatine [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayofDiamonds/pseuds/JayofDiamonds
Summary: {inspired by sonnet 33 || AU}
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Series: sonatine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939273
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	he was but one hour mine

**Author's Note:**

> a short piece inspired by one of Shakespeare's sonnets, specifically 33 (below). this is meant to be like a writing exercise, so I have no plans of continuing this (!!). it is a stand-alone piece. also it's a lil unedited sorry :|
> 
> 33  
> Full many a glorious morning have I seen  
> Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,  
> Kissing with golden face the meadows green,  
> Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy,  
> Anon permit the basest clouds to ride  
> With ugly rack on his celestial face,  
> And from the fórlorn world his visage hide,  
> Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.  
> Ev'n so my sun one early morn did shine  
> With all triumphant splendor on my brow;  
> But out alack, he was but one hour mine;  
> The region cloud hath masked him from me now.  
> Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth.  
> Suns of the world may stain when heav‘n’s sun staineth.

Morning sunlight trickles in through gaps between the clumsily drawn blackout curtains, staining parts of the room gold and casting deep shadows over the rest. Jinyoung stretches slowly, feeling languid, cradled in the heady warmth of a shared bed.

And across the wide bed, Jaebeom’s back. Though Jinyoung can feel the heat radiating from the other man’s skin, it seems too far to touch. Shoulders too broad to encompass. Heart too deep to reach.

But touch Jinyoung does. It’s all he can do, his body curling instinctively towards the radiating warmth. He walks his fingers across the cream sheets until they meet the towering wall of Jaebeom’s back. His skin is warm, but no warmer than Jinyoung’s. They share that too, Jinyoung thinks. An equilibrium of heat.

Jinyoung sets his fingertip into the indent of Jaebeom’s spine, feeling the gentle brush of downy hair. He runs his finger up the valley, along where it crests between Jaebeom’s shoulder blades, until he reaches the knob of bone at the base of Jaebeom’s neck.

Shuffling himself awkwardly closer to Jaebeom amid the sheets, Jinyoung exchanges fingertip for reverent lips. Jaebeom’s skin is buttery and golden beneath Jinyoung’s forgiving lips as they press and press, unable to pull away. When Jinyoung leans up to press a kiss higher, along the slope of Jaebeom’s neck where his dark hair curls down, he has taken too much.

Jaebeom stirs, casting the sheets off so abruptly Jinyoung realizes he must have been awake for a while. In the daylight, Jaebeom never looks into Jinyoung’s face, hesitating eyes skittering away like he is the sun. But Jinyoung knows it is not brilliance that drives Jaebeom’s gaze away. It is shame.

Jaebeom will not look, but on some mornings like this one, he will let Jinyoung steal a little heat, a feathery touch, a desperate kiss. Jinyoung is greedy for whatever Jaebeom offers him. If Jaebeom is the sun, Jinyoung is already blind from looking.

So quickly, Jaebeom is out of Jinyoung’s reach, standing to face the day. Aching to hold onto the embrace of Jaebeom’s sheets, Jinyoung stays in bed. As always, his eyes stay fixed on Jaebeom, drinking in the way his muscles move beneath dewy skin. Soft and still stumbling sleepily, Jaebeom shivers from the chill of the room as he disappears into the bathroom.

Jinyoung knows he is privileged to see Jaebeom bared like this. Though Jaebeom’s heart may be a frozen sun, distant to Jinyoung, there is no body orbiting as close. The sheets wrapped around Jinyoung cool as he hears the shower run, and the room darkens.

By the time Jaebeom emerges from the bathroom, the bed is cold, and the sound of rainfall outside can be heard. Jinyoung once admired Jaebeom as he looks now; dressed in a finely made suit. The slate-grey jacket makes sharp angles of his broad shoulders, the matching slacks pressed into a crisp line running down each leg. Soft hair smoothed away, brow tense and harsh.

When Jaebeom was younger it made him look mature. Now that he is older, it makes him look older still. Between the familiar brows is a furrow that takes longer to fade. Within the familiar eyes, and knotted into Jaebeom’s very core, is an exhaustion that gets heavier every week.

Jinyoung burns to peel away the protective layers. To see the gentle slope of Jaebeom’s shoulders, the give of his relaxed thighs, the soft folds of his stomach. To touch. To live forever in that moment when Jaebeom rolls off Jinyoung and laughs breathlessly, body loose and relaxed, face lit up so hypnotically bright in the darkness.

In that moment when Jaebeom is only Jinyoung’s.

But now he wears his suit of armour, concealing his brilliance behind a shroud of slate-grey professionalism. He belongs to the world beyond the bedroom door. To the city, and the people, and the press conferences, and the speeches.

“Same time next week,” Jaebeom says, only an echo of the question it once was. They both know next Monday morning, Jinyoung will be here. Tangled in the same cream sheets, watching the same man square his broad shoulders to step out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)


End file.
